


Anniversary

by lookingforthestars



Series: Games [1]
Category: Scorpion (TV 2014)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-16
Updated: 2016-05-07
Packaged: 2018-06-02 13:43:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6568594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lookingforthestars/pseuds/lookingforthestars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Emotions. They make people weak. Collins understands that, even if no one else seems to. Walter took everything from him and gave it all to Paige, and now it's time to show Scorpion exactly how weak they are.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Cake

"You're such a liar."

"Categorically untrue," Walter replied, pulling a stack of plates out of a cabinet and sliding them over to Paige. "Geniuses like facts. We abhor dishonesty. Ask Ralph."

"And yet you have frosting on your hands," the liaison chuckled, crossing her arms in front of her chest and raising her eyebrow teasingly.

Walter blushed and grabbed a napkin, wiping the telltale icing off his palm. "Fine. I had one of the cupcakes. But I hadn't eaten in…" he counted on his fingers, "twelve hours, and I doubt that Ralph's bake sale will suffer catastrophically from one missing item."

"You're paying me for that cupcake," she insisted, pointing at him as she walked out of the kitchen with the plates. "It's going toward Ralph's astronomy club."

The genius followed her, folding the cloth napkins haphazardly on the table as she arranged the plates at each setting. "As long as it's not benefitting…" His face twisted into a grimace. "Sports."

"I can wholeheartedly assure you that these cupcakes will not benefit children's physical health in any way." Paige glanced down at her watch and let out a sigh. "I've got to pick up Ralph from the Morrison's. Can you make sure the drinks are cold?"

Walter could think of a thousand better uses of his time than loading bottles of soda and wine into the fridge—or a sit-down dinner in general—but when it came to Paige, the answer never seemed to be anything other than, "Sure."

* * *

"I will never move again," Toby groaned, slumping down into his seat and rubbing his hand over his stomach. Happy, unable to resist the temptation, slapped him and laughed hysterically as he launched forward, looking like he might be sick. "That was poor planning, Happy Quinn. If I return this chicken parmesan back into the world, you're all going to be suffering with me."

"Oh, are we not suffering right now?" she quipped, staring at him with innocent eyes.

"I'm going to get you for—oof." The shrink leaned back again, the exertion required to tickle her causing an unpleasant sensation in his appendix. "Later. I'll get you later."

Happy tossed her napkin at him. "Pretty sure you've been saying that for years."

"And that'll make my ultimate revenge much sweeter," Toby insisted, wrapping his arm around the back of her chair—the closest form of physical contact she permitted him in front of the team. "Just wait until—."

"Toby, shut up," Walter snapped, but the tone of his voice hinted at discomfort more than anger. The psychologist dropped his arm and he and Happy shifted their chairs away from each other.

"I, for one, am glad you guys are happy," Paige said, grinning at them before shooting Walter a dirty look. The genius caught it and withered under her disapproving gaze. "Life is short, and it may be shorter for us, so…you shouldn't waste any time hiding."

Toby opened his mouth to comment on the obvious intention of her comment—it was obvious to the team, at least, if not to the two people concerned—but Happy kicked him under the table and he bit his tongue.

Brushing aside the awkward silence, Paige stood up quickly and gathered the plates, stacking the used utensils on top. Walter instinctively moved to help her, but she pushed on his shoulder to lower him back into the chair. "I have a surprise. Everyone wait here."

"It's a good thing we've got knives to cut all this tension with," Cabe muttered to Toby before taking a swig of his beer.

Paige arrived a moment later with a chocolate cake in her hands, illuminated by the flames of six blue candles. Happy helped to support the base as Paige lowered it into the table, grinning proudly.

"What is this?" Walter asked, staring at it curiously.

"The sixth anniversary of Scorpion," she announced, dropping another stack of fresh plates and silverware next to it. "Walter told me this was the day he officially registered the company. It seemed like something we should celebrate." The geniuses stared at her blankly until her smile dissolved. "What's wrong?"

"It's great," Walter insisted. "It's just that, uh…" He glanced at the others for approval and they nodded, knowing exactly what he intended to say. "Scorpion wasn't really Scorpion until Ralph and…you." His eyes flicked up to hers. "So it's more like two years."

Paige cleared her throat, embarrassed by the sudden wave of emotion that washed over her. She looked over to her son at the end of the table, choking up even more as she saw him beaming. "Thank you, guys."

Afraid she might actually break into tears, the liaison shook her head and handed Happy the cake server, smirking as the mechanic made the world's most exact knife cuts. She circled the table and dropped back into her seat next to Walter, discreetly using her sleeve to clear her eyes.

"Ninety-six days," the genius muttered under his breath.

Paige released a soft laugh. "What?"

"I said two years," Walter answered more clearly, but still in a voice only meant for her. "But it was actually two years and ninety-six days."

"Oh." She cursed herself as the tears welled up again. That kind of knowledge was the cornerstone of the geniuses' minds—they could and did recite facts like that in their sleep—but sometimes it betrayed an extraordinary level of acceptance and loyalty that no expected them to be capable of, least of all themselves. "Best two years and ninety-six days of my life."

Paige's smile widened as Walter looked up at her through dark eyelashes. "I, um—."

"Happy!" The shout was punctuated by a sharp clatter as the cake server made contact with the metal stand, and Toby shot up from his chair, drawing the attention of the group as he hovered over her body. He lifted her eyelids to examine her pupils. "She's unconscious. Paige, call 911."

The liaison reached into her pocket for her phone, but her hand felt like lead. She commanded her fingers to stretch out as the heaviness spread rapidly through her arms and into the rest of her body, blurring her vision and making her head ache. Paige was vaguely aware of Walter's hand on her face, his voice distant and cloaked, her own name sounding strangely unfamiliar. She felt his arms wrap around her as she slipped off of her chair, and then it was over.

* * *

When was the last time she'd been this hungover? Never, that she could remember, not even after her wildest nights in college. Paige blinked, the sliver of light that fell at her feet appearing vastly harsher as her head pounded. A low beeping faded into her senses—her alarm clock, most likely—and she reached instinctively to shut it off, her disorientation compounded when her wrist hit a hard, cold surface.

"Paige." A low voice pierced through the noise, drawn by the clinking of metal. Walter…it was…did they? "Paige, are you okay?"

She forced her eyes opened, wincing at pain like a spike through her mind. He was a few feet away from her, but everything was still blurry. They were…standing? Hanging. They were hanging…

"Walter!" she gasped, the reality of their situation hitting her abruptly and sending her into a panic. Paige yanked down on the chains, trying to reach him, but the effort made her dizzy and she bit down hard on her lip to contain the nausea.

"Don't move, Paige." Walter's calm tone brought her back from the edge and she relaxed her arms as best as she could, squirming as her toes grazed against the ground. "Save your energy. We'll figure this out."

Paige tried to ask if he was hurt, but the words caught in her raspy throat. She coached herself to focus on breathing, knowing that she would be of no use unless she could channel her adrenaline and focus. She was grateful as her heartbeat slowed and her sight began to clear, allowing her to examine their surroundings. The room was empty except for the two of them, and Walter hung from the ceiling by thick chains, a position that all of her senses confirmed she shared. There were no windows, so it wasn't natural light illuminating the room. She blinked again as she inadvertently looked into the single light embedded in the ceiling.

"Where are we?" she whispered, her voice too weak to reach normal volume. There was no doubt he had already observed everything she'd seen and more, but no conclusions formed in her mind. The genius twisted his body as far sideways as he could to face her, cringing as he rubbed his wrists raw. "Stop, Walter, you're hurting yourself."

He looked at her with as much amusement as he could muster and reluctantly complied, sinking back into his restraints. "We're underground. Forty feet, judging by the density of the air. How do you feel?"

"Uncomfortable," Paige admitted, pushing through the wooziness to sort out her memories. "The party. Happy and I…"

"You two were the lightest and the first to lapse into unconsciousness. Then Toby, and then me."

"Ralph?"

Her son's name fell out of her mouth, small and fearful. Walter's expression hinted that he wanted to comfort her, but without concrete information, he could only shrug in defeat. "I don't know."

"Ralph," she said weakly, feeling every ounce of her strength flow out of her body. If they were sedated by something in their dinner, her son had to have been affected. Her stomach tightened in sickening knots as she wondered if he was safe, what he was thinking, if he was calling for her…

"The team will take care of him," Walter said earnestly, mercifully interrupting her train of thought. "They won't let anything happen."

"Are they safe?"

Another look of helplessness from a man who was so rarely helpless. Rather than repeat what she already knew, he nodded to her chains and said, "We're going to get out of here, and we will find them. I promise."

Paige pressed her lips together, swallowing the substantial lump in her throat. "Okay."

"Okay." Walter wriggled his arms, twisting them at various angles to find the weakest point in the cuffs. "These are solid. Brand new, there's no wear in them."

"We must be special," she joked weakly, attempting to conceal her nerves. Walter could think infinitely better if he didn't need to worry about steering the liaison away from a breakdown. He offered her a crooked grin.

"I just need to—." The genius inhaled sharply and jolted, cursing to himself. Paige moved to grab him, frustrated that he was just out of her reach. "Something stabbed me," he explained, answering her unasked question. "A sharp edge. Must be a feature of the cuffs."

_Something stabbed you? That's the best you've got?_

Walter's eyes widened. Paige noticed the change in his demeanor and leaned forward, concern flooding her features. "What is it?"

_You used to be much smarter, Walter. I keep telling you that, but maybe now you'll finally see it for yourself._

A voice. _The_ voice. "Do you hear that?"

"Hear what, Walter?" When he didn't respond, she pushed against the restraints and snapped, "What do you hear?"

"Collins," he whispered. "He's in my head."

_Damn right I am, Walter. Just like I've been for the past five years now. You've never been able to push me out._

A sharp burst of static erupted in his eardrum, and Walter nearly jumped out of his skin. "It's a comm," Paige said in disbelief, rattling her restraints to draw his attention. "He's not in your head, Walter, he's on a comm!"

_Look at that, Nancy Drew might not be entirely worthless after all._

The genius tensed, simultaneously relieved that he wasn't in the middle of a psychological episode and horrified at the realization that Collins was real. Collins had kidnapped him and…

He met Paige's gaze, uneasiness pooling into his chest as he studied her. The woman who had replaced Collins and changed Walter fundamentally. Mark saw her as both unworthy and a threat, became obsessed with her role on the team, wanted nothing more than to defeat her and reclaim his place.

"She's not your enemy, Collins, I am," he announced, ignoring the questioning stares from the liaison. "Let her go."

"I don't consider either of you enemies, per se," Mark said smoothly on the other end. "I'm more interested in proving a point."

"If you're going to kill us, then get on with it," Walter growled.

Paige clenched her fists, frustrated at hearing only one side of the conversation, but Walter stayed quiet, refusing to grant Collins any more influence over her than he'd already achieved.

"It's actually going to be a great deal more fun than that. See, killing you would mean wasting one of the greatest minds in existence. On the other hand, killing Ms. Dineen would turn her into a martyr, thus ensuring that you never see the truth." Mark let out a low whistle and enunciated his next words, determined for Walter to hear every one clearly. "I don't have to kill Paige. Because she's going to betray you."


	2. Control

Toby woke up, like he did most mornings, with his arm wrapped around Happy and her hair tickling his neck. He smiled sleepily and reached over to look at the time, but he wasn't in bed. His faculties returned to him in rapid succession as he realized that while his girlfriend _was_ snuggled into him, they were not alone.

Her figure was still limp against him, and he disentangled himself before taking hold of her shoulders and shaking her gently. The mechanic didn't respond immediately, and Toby felt a surge of panic until she blinked her eyes open and stared at him in annoyance. "You can get your own breakfast, numb nuts."

"Happy, wake up. It's important." Toby eased her into an upright position in her chair, and she rubbed her face to rid herself of the grogginess. She was a particularly heavy sleeper, and while the shrink normally found that endearing, they had more serious issues to address.

"Why are Sly and Cabe here?" she asked quizzically as she stretched out her back and shoulders. "Guys, wake the hell up."

The agent mumbled something that sounded like "put your hands in the air" before he slumped to the side, while Sylvester merely shifted positions as best he could with his face buried in the table. Happy, lifting her hand up to her mouth as she yawned, stood up and circled around, smacking the two men on the back of their heads. They woke up with a start.

"What are you doing in my apartment?" Cabe snapped, glaring at her in confusion.

Toby sighed and rose from his chair, glancing quickly around the garage and landing on the untouched chocolate cake in front of them. "Something happened last night. The O'Brien-Dineen clan isn't here. You think Walt and Paige snuck off to finally get busy?"

Happy leaned across the table and smacked his arm, the only part of him she could reach. "The better question is, where is Ralph?"

"Um, guys?" Sylvester's voice was several octaves too high, setting the rest of the team on edge. They approached him with caution and sobered as they nearly stepped into a large pool of blood, dried and crusting on the concrete floor. Happy jumped back and clutched Toby's shirt in her fist.

"Search the garage, now," Cabe ordered, gesturing for the three geniuses to head in separate directions. Happy felt a sinking sensation as she climbed the stairs to the loft, Toby behind her—he certainly wasn't leaving her alone, in case there was still an imminent threat—and twisted open the doorknob with shaking hands.

"Walt? Paige?" The room was silent except for the echo of her words on the rows of shelves in Walter's lab. Her gaze landed on the bed and she dropped her shoulders. "Oh thank God," she breathed, running over to Ralph's sleeping form, the rise and fall of his chest the only indication that he was alive and breathing. "Buddy?"

Toby was at the boy's side in an instant, propping Ralph up against his own body and brushing a hand through his hair. "Ralph, kid, you've got to let us know that you're alright."

"Mom?" the young genius murmured, reaching out slowly but surely for consciousness. Toby couldn't resist embracing him tighter and planting a quick kiss on the side of his head. "Where's my mom?"

"Just relax, Ralph. I think we may have been sedated. The effects will be harder on you because you're the smallest."

The boy made a noise of agreement and settled back into Toby, who shared a concerned glance with Happy before she disappeared from the loft to check in with the others.

"I'm sure your mom is fine," he muttered when it was quiet, rocking slightly with the child in his arms. "We'll find her soon. I promise."

* * *

"I want that done in the shortest amount you can comprehend, got it?" Cabe demanded as a crime scene technician scooped the blood from the floor into a vial for testing. The garage was swarming with them, and Happy couldn't tell if it was calming the team or increasing their anxiety. They had a tenuous relationship with law enforcement, even after their extensive work with Homeland and its network of government agencies…many of whose corruption and inefficiency was nothing short of remarkable.

"Cabe, I found something," she whispered, angling herself toward him to hide their conversation from onlookers. The mechanic twisted open a piece of paper and showed its contents to him. "I pulled it out of my toolbox a few minutes ago."

_You should have been the one to see me coming._

The agent snapped his eyes to hers. "Who is this from?"

"I have a pretty good idea," she said in a low voice, returning the scrap to her pocket. "There's a good chance we'll find more notes. Look in the stuff you use the most. Things you always keep in the garage."

"Copy." They broke apart and Cabe pulled Sylvester into a corner, relaying the message. Happy told Toby of her suspicions and they dispersed, unnoticed by the agents inspecting their food and drinks from the previous night.

Sylvester's note was, as he'd anticipated, in a box of Band-Aids he kept on his desk. _Megan would be so disappointed that you couldn't protect Walter._ There weren't many people that knew about the meaning behind the bandages, but he could think of one person that might be crazy enough to find out.

Toby shook his out of a textbook on aggressive behavior. He'd often read a page out loud and then look at Collins pointedly in front of the team, so it was the logical choice. Well, whatever Mark's version of logical was. _Feel free to take the day off. You won't be of much help anyway._

Cabe ultimately found his in a pocket of his briefcase, and his breath caught as he read it. _Too late. You may be able to find their bodies, though._

"Collins is a pathological liar," Happy argued when they regrouped. "He lives for the game. There's no way he'd kill them like this."

"Are we sure it's him?" Cabe asked.

"This is classic Collins. He'll play mind games with us until he gets what he wants." Toby stepped closer and linked his fingers with Happy's, a move she didn't protest because she knew they both needed the comfort. "I hate that guy."

"If it's the game he wants, then he'll keep them alive until we can find them. And we have to assume that he's watching us, so what we learn doesn't leave this team, alright?"

They nodded their heads in agreement with the agent, but behind the hope and determination was the awful, nagging doubt that they maybe they had already lost. Collins would have kept Walter alive—probably—but the liaison was exponentially more vulnerable. Nobody could stand to think about what Mark had planned for them.

* * *

"Walter, you're bleeding," Paige gasped, causing the genius to glance over at his arm, where a stream of dark red liquid was trickling from his wrist to his elbow. He shrugged.

"It's a surface wound. No major artery damage. This isn't the ideal angle for effective clotting, but it shouldn't be a problem for a while."

She scoffed. "A while?"

"I don't know how clean these cuffs are, so I could potentially contract an infection. The jagged edge that injured me is still digging into the skin a little. But I'm fine," Walter answered noncommittally, but it was clear from Paige's nonverbal cues that she wasn't reassured. Her breaths were too fast and shallow, and her tensed muscles signaled extreme stress. "Paige, focus on me," Walter said evenly, holding her gaze. "I know you're scared, but we'll find a way out of our confinement. We're a good team. We'll get out and get to Ralph."

The glazing in her eyes started to recede, and her breaths fell back in line with his. The mention of her son's name appeared to center her. Walter noted that and filed it away for future use.

"Did Collins tell you what he wants?" Paige questioned, her voice taking on a new resolve. Walter pressed his lips into a thin line and stayed silent. "Knowing what he wants gives us the best chance of figuring out how and when to escape. Are you seriously not going to tell me?"

"Mark is a master of mental manipulation," the genius rebutted, his face suddenly devoid of expression. "He's going to use doubt to turn us against each other. He wants me to tell you what he said, so it's best if I don't."

"Or maybe he knew you would keep it from me so that I would think you were hiding something, Walter," she said, placing biting emphasis on his name. "You said it yourself. We're a team. I should know what you know."

Walter sighed and sorted through his options before settling on what he considered an acceptable compromise. "Fine. I will tell you if and when it becomes relevant to our escape."

Paige continued to glare at him, her jaw slightly hinged as if she couldn't believe the ludicrousness of their situation. "That's not what I—."

"I'm sorry, Paige." There was a flash of guilt in his eyes, and her mouth snapped shut. While she was prepared to argue the point with him, she sensed that he was talking about more than the content of his conversation with Collins. "I thought I could move on from the past and…forget that any of this happened. Mark was my responsibility. I should have ensured that he couldn't hurt anyone else, but he slipped through my fingers and now you're reaping the consequences."

Perhaps a reasonable person, in this predicament, would blame him. Would feel anger welling in their chest, direct it at the first person they could see, regret the decisions they made to reach that point. But because she'd been with Scorpion through decidedly unreasonable situations—or maybe because she was unreasonably in love with Walter—she felt no anger, no spite, only the need to comfort him.

"I'm part of the team, Walter. For better or worse." He dropped his head and nodded weakly. "This is not your fault. You've always protected me, no matter how much danger I was in. There's no doubt in my mind that you'll protect me now."

As if Collins heard those words—it was possible that he had—and decided to turn them into cruel irony, the door to their cell swung open and two men, tall and imposing and armed to the teeth, descended on Paige. She barely had time to struggle before one of them pushed a syringe into her neck and her body fell slack. The other unhooked her cuffs from the chains and hoisted her over his shoulder with no effort.

Walter could hear himself uttering, maybe screaming, something that sounded like a string of her name and _don't touch her_ and _take me, leave her alone_ , but the guards paid him no attention as they carried her out of the room, and his shouts simply bounced off the empty walls back to him.


	3. Strong

Paige wondered how many times she could be sedated in twenty-four hours before she just stopped waking up. Collins seemed determined to find out. This dosage, at least, appeared to be lighter, likely because he didn't need to transport her as far. She was in a room very similar to the first, but the air smelled less stale and the extra overhead lighting stung at her eyes. The cocktail of drugs in her system was rapidly wearing off, heightening her senses drastically and allowing the pain from her handcuffs to seep back into her wrists.

Her stomach twisted at the memory of Walter shouting her name before the darkness overtook her again. Being separated from him felt like torture in itself. No matter how scared she had been when they were chained up together, his presence calmed and strengthened her. Now she would have to be strong on her own. She couldn't let Collins see any fear.

Why wouldn't Walter tell her what their captor's game was? Perhaps he would have if he'd anticipated her being taken away. Of course, she was assuming that Collins had told him something important, or even true. There were certain aspects of Walter's relationship with Collins that he still refused to divulge—to her, to anyone. Those memories were stained by too much pain and guilt to see the light of day.

But Collins hadn't forgotten.

The liaison was somewhat comforted in the knowledge that he had not yet become physically abusive. That wasn't really his style, anyway; he'd hired henchmen for that. He got off on the games, the look in a person's eyes when everything they believed was crushed in one fell swoop. That was his specialty, and he was the best. And the world barely knew his name. No one gave out awards for his particular talents.

All of which added to her curiosity and apprehension about the equipment in the room. The décor, if she was being generous, consisted of three items: her chair; a camera mounted on a tripod and aimed at her; and next to it, a conference call system, similar to the phones they used at the garage. Paige was slammed with the sudden urge to destroy all of it, put a kink in Mark's grand plan, but the restraints that bound her wrists to the steel arms of the chair seemed to tighten with her every movement, and she decided to follow Walter's advice and reserve her energy.

Better to destroy Collins himself.

Paige was having trouble keeping track of the time, but she estimated that it had been at least half an hour before a miniscule green light flicked on to signal that the camera was active. Her attention was drawn to it immediately, and she kept her face as stoic as possible, using Happy as her unwitting inspiration.

"Thank you for joining me, Miss Dineen," Mark's smarmy voice poured through the phone speakers. "I trust you're comfortable."

Her heartbeat raced a little, but she replayed Walter's words of reassurance in her mind and relaxed after a few tries.

"Your boss is fine, by the way. No need to worry. If he loses too much blood, we'll be able to assist him."

_Walter._ Even though it wasn't her choice to leave him, she still forced down a pang of guilt, knowing how stressed he became when a member of the team was in danger. Paige couldn't imagine how helpless he was feeling now.

"Why don't you come in here and face me?" the liaison challenged. She certainly had no interest in seeing Collins again, but the theatrics had to serve a purpose, and Paige wanted to know what.

"Because I can't promise what I'll do when we're finally in the same room, Miss Dineen, and I'm not finished with our conversation yet."

Paige gritted her teeth. "Well, I am. So I guess you can let me go now."

"You're a feisty one," Collins said with a laugh that absolutely would have made Paige punch him if she had the opportunity. "I can almost see why Walter hired you. I mean…no, I really can't. But you must be a fun little toy for the geniuses to play with."

She didn't need to defend her role on the team. It would only give him more ammunition. She bit her tongue.

"Sensitive spot, I see. Very well. We'll get back to that. First, I have a proposition for you."

Paige was fairly certain she had no interest, but there wasn't much else to do until he was finished fawning over his own cleverness, so she nodded once.

"I've watched you for a while now." An involuntary chill shot through her spine as she imagined him waiting in the shadows during their private moments, recording their every move. "You're a very dull person. I have no idea how everyone puts up with you, always making them stop what they're doing to explain basic concepts. But there is one thing about you that I find quite interesting. Pathetic, but interesting."

Her pride begged her to push back. She swallowed it.

"You're in love with Walter," he said, coldly and evenly, and Paige couldn't find it in her heart to deny the statement. "You follow him around like a puppy that enjoys being kicked. Oblivious to the fact that he does not think about you the same way. I doubt he thinks about you at all, really. I wonder, do you actively lie to yourself that you have a chance with him, or are you honestly too stupid to see the truth?"

She wanted desperately to set him straight, but she settled for snapping, "Do you have a point?"

"Love is a useless emotion for useless people," Collins continued, ignoring her. "I've known you were useless since the moment I met you, so I'm not surprised by your feelings. Walter, however...if I may be blunt, your sentiment is wasted on him. He's not capable of love."

"You don't know him," Paige answered impulsively, regretting her reply as soon as it was out. There was a hint of defensiveness in her voice that she failed to filter, and he jumped on it like he'd found valuable treasure.

" _Au contraire,_ my dear. _You_ don't know him. Tell me, were you surprised when he decided to pursue other women?"

Surprised was one word for it. Confused. Heartbroken, though she'd never admitted it, and didn't plan to reveal those feelings now.

"You don't have to answer. I can read it on your face. Actually, I read it when you first found out, too. It was a delightful show. And then when Linda came around..." Mark snickered. "Honestly, I half expected you to let that bomb tear her to pieces."

Paige tensed at the mention of Linda's name but stayed silent.

"How many women does Walter need to bring to the garage before you take the hint? I don't think he could be any clearer if he was having sex with them on your desk. Well, that's a poor metaphor. Linda was the lucky recipient of that honor." Paige couldn't stop herself as her eyes widened and her jaw locked. Behind her mask of indifference, she was nauseated by the idea of Walter being intimate with any other woman, and Collins knew it. "I still have the tape, actually. But I'll spare you. She was… _very_ vocal. Walter couldn't keep his hands off of her. And the garage has so many flat surfaces—."

"Stop," Paige demanded, but she was begging and he knew that too. Collins had to be lying, had to be playing with her, and if he wasn't—that thought alone made her want to throw up—she couldn't take the mental images that bombarded her.

Collins let the point go, satisfied that it had served its purpose. "He can't reciprocate your feelings, and even if he was capable of that level of attachment, he's made it obvious that he doesn't want it with you," he insisted, imbuing false compassion into his voice. "It seems to me, actually, that he wants anyone _but_ you. It's uncomfortable to watch you degrade yourself. Accept the fact that you will never be able to meet the needs of a genius, and move on. Walter will always look down on you. He'll pity you. But he won't love you."

Paige understood now why Mark didn't rely on physical violence; he didn't need to. His words cut deeper than the sharpest blade. He was testing her, manipulating her, and yet, at its core—as much as it pained her to acknowledge—what he said was true. Walter had been giving her clues that she was too blind or too stubborn to see. Collins didn't have to dig very deep to find her pressure point, because it seemed the truth was obvious to everyone but her.

_Don't give in. This is what he wants._

_Don't give in._

_Don't give in._

But Walter didn't love her. Deep down, she'd always known that.

"What do you want, Collins?" the liaison finally questioned, glaring angrily into the camera and wondering if she looked even more broken in person than she did through the lens. "Why don't you tell me your proposition so we can both get on with our lives?"

"There's a way we can both get what we want. What we need." Collins paused for dramatic effect and then cleared his throat. "You need a fresh start. A chance to live your own life away from the man you can never have. I, on the other hand, want Walter's mind. Free from emotional attachments. Pure and unencumbered, just the way it used to be."

The pieces were falling together, but Paige needed to hear him say it.

"Leave," Mark said simply, the venom drained from his voice. "Take Ralph and leave. New city, new identities, no more contact with Walter or the team. Ever. And I won't come after you."

Now that his intentions were clear, Paige's steely expression began to crack. She bit down on her lip to maintain her composure while she absorbed his offer. "I'm not leaving them."

"I thought you might say that. But you're clearly not thinking about it from the team's perspective."

She blinked. "I'm sorry?"

"I tried to figure out how many times Scorpion had to put off saving the world to save you instead, but I lost count," Collins answered flippantly. "You have no self-defense training. You don't carry a weapon. You can't build anything, you can't analyze behavior like that irritating shrink, you can't hack, and you're most certainly not the brains of the operation. What do you think that you bring to the team, exactly?"

"You know what my job is. To—."

"To stifle them," he interrupted, his trademark biting tone returning. "To make them ashamed of who they are."

"No, I would never do that," she argued, shifting angrily in her seat and wincing as the ties dug into her skin.

"You can't help it, Paige. You're a normal. Normals are not capable of understanding us."

Collins allowed the uncomfortable silence to sink between them. Paige had wondered about her value to the team at first, sure, but it had been two years and…ninety-seven days, now, and she'd been helpful.

Hadn't she?

Of course, she wasn't a genius, and she didn't possess their incredible variety of skills. Sometimes she got herself in a tight spot—like they all did. Paige had an unusual role in Scorpion, but it worked.

_Don't give in._

"And Walter?" A knot rose in her chest as his name fell from her lips for the first time. She wished so desperately that he was there to…what, save her? Wasn't that what he always did? Was she really that defenseless? "You have to guarantee his safety too."

Collins hesitated before responding, "That's not really part of the deal."

"What are you going to do to him?" Paige shook her head. Her voice sounded so weak. She was giving Mark everything he wanted. Walter would never fall apart like this.

"Your questions are actively lowering my IQ. Please stop."

"Tell me!" the liaison barked, tightened her palms into fists and not really feeling the pain in her wrists anymore because something far more crushing had replaced it.

"Well, I'll try to fix the damage your team of imbeciles has caused, but if I can't…"

Collins trailed off easily, and Paige's chest constricted until she was sure she was on the verge of passing out. "You're bluffing. You won't hurt him. He's too valuable to you."

"I'm crazy, Paige. Perhaps you've heard. That means I _could_ do just about anything." That was a lie; he didn't consider himself crazy any more than Paige considered herself crazy. It was a token in the game. "The point is that you will not be around to find out. Once you walk out of here, you can't look for him, you can't talk to him, I'd suggest you don't even think about him. You and I both know this is for the best."

"You're asking me to gamble on Walter's future. What makes you think I would agree to that?"

Mark was quiet for a moment. "The greater good theory, Paige. One of Walter's favorites. Once we resume our partnership, I have no further need for you, your son, or the team. You'll all be free to live out the rest of your small, insignificant lives. Separately, of course; you should never have been a part of Scorpion, and once you're gone it'll be like you were never there."

"Six years," Paige muttered under her breath, the sudden realization dawning on her. "The anniversary of Scorpion. The perfect backdrop for you to tear it apart."

"So we have a deal then?" Collins cut in, impatience coloring his voice. But Paige didn't notice; her mind was back at the party. _Scorpion wasn't really Scorpion until Ralph and…you._

_Don't give in._ This time, it was Walter's voice encouraging her, giving her strength, reminding her.

Paige raised her head toward the camera and twisted her lips into a fiery smile. "Go to hell, Collins."


	4. Games

"Damnit, Collins," Happy muttered as she slammed the phone back into its cradle, pausing before she knocked a stack of papers off the desk for good measure. "Some idiot at the LAPD downloaded a virus from a porn site and their entire computer system is jacked. They're out of commission until it's fixed. No help there."

"Collins was our best hacker aside from Walter," Sylvester chimed in, letting out a frustrated noise. "He's left a million digital breadcrumbs, but they're all dead ends. He's just wasting our time."

Toby balled up the map in front of him, tossing it lazily into the trash can. "I've got—."

"Nothing," Cabe concluded, rubbing a hand roughly over his face. "I gathered. Look, team, we've been working nonstop on this one. Take five minutes to regroup."

The geniuses obeyed, scattering across the garage. Toby slumped onto the couch like a ragdoll, tipping down his fedora to block his eyes from the light as his head rolled back. Moments later, he felt a dip in pressure next to him and glanced over to see the mechanic watching him with a tired expression.

"Eat," Happy commanded, handing him a glass of water and a wrapped piece of beef jerky—probably the only thing they had left in the garage, as today was usually Paige's designated time to go grocery shopping. He wasn't really hungry, but if the liaison was here she'd remind him that he could think better when his strength was up, so he decided to honor her wishes.

"Thanks," Toby mumbled, flashing his girlfriend an appreciative smile. Her lips were trapped in the same thin, tense line, but he sensed the mutual understanding between them. He chugged the water before his fingers went to work on peeling apart the stubborn plastic wrapper, stopping abruptly just as he'd freed the questionable food inside. "Hap?"

The mechanic furrowed her brows, noting his look of intense concentration. "What?"

Toby waved his hand, indicating for her to follow him as he bolted up from the couch and rushed to the computer on his desk, bringing the screen up on one of their mounted televisions. Cabe and Sylvester, noticing the sudden movement, were by his side instantly.

"It's not Walter's blood," the psychologist said breathlessly as he opened his e-mail and scrolled through the extensive analysis of the liquid they'd found on the garage floor that morning, cursing himself for being too exhausted to put the pieces together sooner.

"The lab tested it," Cabe rebutted. He had cashed in all his favors and indebted himself to a few more to move that sample up the list, and he was going to be livid if they'd made a mistake. "It's definitely Walter's."

"No, I mean, it is…it's just not his blood now," Toby explained without looking up.

"Huh?"

"Anemia." Toby glanced quickly at Happy, whose face lit up in recognition. She joined him by the computer and squeezed his shoulder before they turned their attention to Cabe and Sylvester. "Five years ago, Walter had anemia. Iron deficiency. Because of his work with Mark, he wasn't eating or sleeping much, and that took a toll on his body. He had to down some heavy-duty supplements to recover."

"So?" the mathematician said anxiously.

"So Walter cured his anemia," Happy continued. "But these blood samples all show signs of severe iron deficiency. It is Walter's blood, but it's from five years ago."

Toby grinned at her proudly, the excitement making his pitch rise. "The blood we found isn't fresh. It's been dehydrated and stored like that beef jerky. My guess is that Collins, being a paranoid basket case, believed Walter would someday betray him and collected his blood in case he ever needed to implicate him in some way. Walter was so out of it half the time I doubt he would have even noticed."

Cabe exhaled in relief. "So he's not as injured as we thought?"

"Not just that," Toby shook his finger, "but Mark would need specialized equipment and facilities to handle all of that. Some of it he _might_ have been able to make himself, but some things we should be able to track back to him."

"You think he just walked into a medical supply store and used his credit card?" the agent quipped.

"Nope. More than likely he bought them illegally," Toby smirked. "But I happen to have some very unsavory friends in the black market that owe me big."

* * *

Walter was such a fool. There had to have been more he could do to protect Paige than flailing helplessly while she was taken away from him. He should have anticipated that possibility, listened to her, revealed what Collins told him. Now Mark was no doubt sinking his claws into her mind—he desperately hoped that was all the sociopath was messing with, but he could attest that the psychological torture was painful enough—and Walter had no one but himself to blame for it.

But somehow, even greater than his guilt over letting Collins invade their lives was the realization that she would never know the truth. How unbelievably selfish was he to worry about something like that right now? Paige, his Paige, was suffering and all he could focus on was how he'd never get another chance to touch her, tell her that he needed her, make her feel loved and important and as truly extraordinary as she was.

Walter felt the strength drain out of him, and he sank against his restraints, ignoring the persistent stinging and soreness. He betrayed Collins. It should have been him in her place, owning up to the consequences of his actions while Paige was safely at home with Ralph. If he'd never met her, never hired her, never…

There was no point in that now. What was done was done, and Walter needed to get her out of this nightmare at any cost.

The genius tensed again as the door creaked open, revealing a single guard who kicked it shut behind him and advanced toward Walter with a bottle of pills and some sort of green shake in a paper cup. "Medication for the pain," the man explained, shaking a couple of the round, white pills into his palm. "Open your mouth."

"Where is Paige?" Walter snapped, rattling his chains to underscore the anger in his voice, but the guard simply shrugged and crushed the pills in his palm, dropping the powder into his drink. The genius's strength was failing, and he felt his stomach rumbling in hunger, but he'd be damned if he was going to accept anything from Collins. "Let me see her."

"No," the man said, his eyes mocking and challenging as he lifted them to meet Walter's. That was enough to push him over the edge, and he used the last remaining bit of power in his muscles to drive his foot into the guard's shin, sending the man buckling toward the floor and the liquid spilling out onto the concrete. Sensing a narrow window of opportunity, Walter's legs wrapped around the mercenary's neck and tightened, trapping his body in place until he slumped forward more quickly than expected, likely due to the poor air quality in the cell.

After a few unsuccessful tries, Walter looped the toe of his shoe through a keyring on the guard's belt and yanked it up. He should have been far too weak to balance and pull and twist in the ways required to get the keys up to his hand, but the thought of getting to Paige, of ensuring her safety and returning her to her son, spurred him forward. He laughed stupidly to himself as he finally slipped out of his cuffs and made shaky contact with the floor.

Walter pulled the guard's gun out of his holster, moving slowly so as not to wake him, and frowned when he found the chamber empty. It was too risky to search his body for other weapons, so Walter flicked the safety on and tucked the gun into the waistband of his pants, figuring he could bluff his way out of a confrontation if necessary.

He cracked the cell door open and slipped through, careful not to cause undue noise or distraction. The hallway was even dimmer than his room, and stars clouded his vision as his eyes adjusted to the darkness. Eventually, Walter felt secure enough to explore further and grazed his hand along the wall for guidance while he walked, stumbling every so often on the uneven ground beneath him. He'd estimated about two minutes before he rounded a corner and a light flashed in his periphery.

One room—the only room he'd seen so far with lights on. The door was closed, and they were spilling out through the narrow crack below. It was a gamble; Collins and his army could be playing poker in there, for all he knew, ready to shoot him on sight.

Or he could find Paige.

The odds were…he shook his head. Inconsequential. If he had even the slightest chance of helping her, of protecting her, it would have to be enough.

Walter suppressed his breathing as he listened in to the room, but he heard nothing. Taking that as a good sign, he fumbled with the guard's keys until he found one that slipped into the lock effortlessly and turned it.

"Paige," the genius murmured, his heart skipping a beat when he saw her hunched over, her face obscured by her hair. He raced to her side, brushing the strands away and tilting her chin up. Paige's eyes blinked open slowly and widened as his presence sunk in. "Are you okay? Are you hurt?"

"No," she whispered, offering him a reassuring smile. "Just really tired."

Walter chuckled as he attacked her restraints, trying not to aggravate the chaffing and bruising on her wrists. He freed her arms and then moved on to her ankles, allowing his hand to linger momentarily on her leg as he drank in the relief of being close to her again. "Did Collins…?" he asked in a small voice, afraid to say the words and of how she would respond.

She reached out to touch his shoulder, wincing slightly at the movement. "I'm fine, Walter," Paige insisted, drawing his attention back up to her. "Collins is a bastard, but you and I both know he doesn't like to get his hands dirty."

He nodded and finished with her zip ties, wrapping an arm around her waist to help her stand. The liaison buckled as blood rushed suddenly back through her body, but she recovered and latched onto him, causing him to hide a small grin.

There was a swift click on the other side of the door, and Walter frantically reached out, tugging at the handle. "It's locked. It only locks from the outside," he explained with a hint of panic, shuddering as reality descended on him swiftly and mercilessly. He'd been so stupid. The guard, the keys, the lights…it was easy, far too easy, and had Walter not been so desperate he would have seen right through it.

"What?" the woman questioned, cupping his chin and forcing him to face her. "What's going on, Walter?"

"I'm sorry, Paige," was all he had a chance to say before the door swung open and Collins appeared, fingers curled around a gun that was pointed directly at them.

The mad genius smirked and gestured to Walter with the weapon. "You don't look surprised. I suppose you've figured it out?"

Walter took a step back with Paige and tightened his grip on her waist, breathing shallowly as she reciprocated. "Another mind game," he muttered, shaking his head in disbelief. "You let me escape and I played right into it."

"For a genius, you're not terribly inventive," Mark shrugged. "I know you better than anyone, Walter. Never forget that."

Collins knew who he was, years ago. Walter tried hard not to be that person anymore, but his former partner was clearly trying to draw him back into the darkest years of his life. "Enough with the games," he snapped. "Let Paige walk out of here and you and I can settle this permanently."

Mark took a step forward, his eyes narrowing behind his glasses. "See, that doesn't work for me. Paige happens to be an integral part of this negotiation. Why don't you tell him about my offer?"

"Not a chance," she hissed, fists clenching as she held back from lunging at him. Walter had never seen her quite so furious before, but her ire faded slightly as Collins turned the gun on her, leveling it with her chest.

"That was not a request," Mark said through gritted teeth, pausing after each word. "Inform him about our agreement, Miss Dineen."

The genius angled his body slightly between her and Collins, moving slowly so as not to startle their captor. "It's okay," he said quietly, hoping his eyes conveyed the same message.

Paige's shoulders relaxed and she took a deep breath, glancing at Mark for a brief second before focusing exclusively on Walter. "You stay here and work with Collins again. The team goes unharmed, and Ralph and I…" she choked on the words.

"What, Paige? You and Ralph do what?"

"We disappear," she finally managed, clutching his arm as if to stabilize herself. "We'd never see you or the team again, never even know what happened to you. But I said no, Walter. I'm not leaving here without you."

Walter was quiet as he absorbed the information, but Collins became impatient and cocked the gun, pressing it painfully against her collarbone. The genius wanted to demolish him, but even if he could overtake Mark, there was no way to get past the armed guards undoubtedly waiting in the hallway. He forced himself not to react, and even as fear flickered through Paige's eyes, she continued to stand her ground.

"I told her why that was a naïve decision, but she doesn't seem to want to listen to me. Perhaps she'll listen to you." Collins nudged her with the barrel. "Tell him why, Paige. Tell Walter what I told you…as much as you can remember with that unremarkable little brain of yours."

Paige's fierceness faltered a bit, and Walter was sure that despite her bravado, Mark had somehow wormed his way into her head. "He told me to take the deal because…" Her eyes fluttered shut, and all the genius wanted to do in that moment was kiss her, hold her, protect her from the pain. But he couldn't. "I needed to start over. Because I…I'm in love with you, Walter, and you don't…you can't…ever love me that way."

Every neuron in his body felt like it was firing wildly. She loved him. And now the only way to save her would be to betray that.

The genius allowed his expression to harden, dropping his hands abruptly from her sides and taking a wide step backward. He'd spent most of his life hiding too-deep emotions behind a mask of indifference, so it sounded dangerously genuine when he eventually spoke. "He's right. I'm not capable of that kind of love, and especially not…not with a normal," Walter said firmly, hoping that he might be able to forget the pain in her eyes one day but sure that he never would. "It's time to take the deal and leave."


	5. Illusion

Paige stumbled back a bit as Walter's words hit her with tangible force. She'd seen this expression on his face before—devastatingly cold and vacant—but not as often, in the past year, and never directed at her. Collins withdrew the gun from her skin, his insufferable smirk suggesting that he was pleased with the turn of events.

"Walter?" She tried to sound firm, keep her armor on, but she was emotionally exhausted and her desire to let go and break down caused her voice to come out shaky and cracked. "Listen to me, Walter. You don't need to protect me."

"I'm not," the genius said hollowly, and Paige shivered. It was as if the Walter she knew had disappeared, without warning, replaced by the robotic version of himself. If he'd succeeded in creating the technology to upload a person's memories into a computer, she imagined this would have been the result, and she desperately wished to see one more flash of warmth in his eyes. "Collins and I understand each other. We can reach a mutually beneficial agreement. But not with you here."

_He's lying._ She ached to believe that, to receive some kind of signal that would confirm the nagging hope deep in her heart, but he revealed nothing. Tears stung at her eyes and she blinked them back quickly. "Even if it means we'll never see each other again?"

"That would be…" Walter pressed his lips together. "An acceptable consequence."

The apathy in his tone wedged another crack into a wall that was already so close to collapsing. Mark's accusations needled at her brain, and the liaison, unable to fight them any longer, felt them overtake her. "And Ralph?" she asked, her choked sob mixed with a tinge of anger. "You would never see him again, not for the rest of his life, and that's okay with you?"

The mention of her son's name appeared to weaken Walter's defenses, just for a second, as uncertainty flicked through his features. But he recovered quickly and cleared his throat. "He'll understand."

"No, he won't," Paige argued softly, restraining herself from reaching out to the genius. "It will crush him."

It would crush her too, but that didn't seem relevant at the moment. Collins was right; she'd been so foolish to think that Walter could change, feel anything like love for a person so vastly different from him. But he loved Ralph; she refused to believe otherwise. They were the same, and if anything could pierce through Walter's shutdown, it would be the young, innocent genius he mentored.

Walter stared at her, a hint of sadness in his expression that Paige hoped she wasn't just imagining. Without breaking her gaze, he said, "I'll stay, Collins. You don't need her to make that decision. I'm volunteering."

She'd nearly forgotten he was in the room, as uncharacteristically quiet as he had been while watching their standoff unfold. Paige dropped her eyes from Walter's and wrapped her arms around herself to calm her goosebumps as Mark chuckled darkly.

"No. It's her choice, or both of you suffer."

The liaison sensed the loss when Walter tore his eyes away from her and glared at Collins. "Why? What difference would it make?"

Paige flinched as Mark entered her personal space again, twisting the gun casually between his fingers as if daring one of them to make a move. But between the sedatives, the lack of food and water, the injuries from the restraints, and the mental fatigue, neither of the Scorpion members stood much of a chance, and they both knew it.

"You've been infected by sentiment," Collins announced, spitting out the last word distastefully. "You need to learn a lesson, Walter. Normals will always leave when they become afraid of what we're capable of. Paige is no different. If I let her go now, you'll remain unconvinced, and your mind will still be tainted by stupid, weak illusions of love and family. Our partnership will be…incomplete."

"Then go ahead and kill me, because I'm not leaving," Paige snapped before Walter could respond. "I'm sorry if you've been hurt by people in the past, but guess what? So has everybody. Move on, Collins."

Mark's reaction was instantaneous as his jaw clenched and he marched toward her. Suddenly his hand was wrapped around her arm, crushing her as he yanked her toward him, and Paige let out a whimper at the sharp spike of pain.

"Stop," Walter demanded, desperation emerging in his voice. "She doesn't understand us, Collins. Paige is just a normal. She's not worth all of this."

His statement shot straight through her heart, but she didn't have time to dwell on it as Mark twisted her arm behind her and pressed the barrel of his gun into her back. The pain was tremendous, but she stiffened her muscles and steadied her breathing, determined to deny him the satisfaction of her fear.

"Then I suggest you convince her, Walter," he said venomously. "And quickly, before she says anything else out of line."

The genius approached her carefully, aware that Collins was—perhaps literally—on a hair trigger. He looked down at her, the iciness returning to his stare. Being around Walter usually made her feel safe, protected, valued, but his presence had the opposite effect now. "You have no reason to stay here, Paige. Don't let your feelings cloud your judgement. I'm not sure what you expect to accomplish by resisting."

_This isn't Walter._ Collins had gotten into his head, hammered on his pressure points, and although she knew that Walter was capable of this type of emotionless, analytical behavior, it wasn't him anymore. "I won't let you spend the rest of your life under this psychopath's thumb. Either we leave together or we don't leave at all."

"There is no _we_ , Paige," he insisted, his tone steely as he gestured between them. "I wanted…I wanted to feel normal. See if I could form a connection with someone who wasn't a genius. I _used_ you, Paige. I used you as an experiment and I apologize for that. But as much as I tried, it was never real. Not for me."

Paige swallowed. She couldn't let Collins break them. Walter was lying to protect her.

Except that Walter didn't lie. _Geniuses like facts. We abhor dishonesty._

He wasn't capable of this level of deception, was he? There was always some tell, some nervous habit that gave him away, but Walter displayed nothing like that now.

"I respect you for raising Ralph," he continued, not allowing her time to react. "But my…my attentions to you had too great of a cost. They diverted my focus from important things. The time I devoted to you and Ralph could have been used to save Megan." He cleared his throat, the thought of his sister slamming painfully into both of them. "And the worst part is that I still fell victim to the inevitable boredom, as we both suspected I would. I tried a relationship with Linda because I thought she might be a better match for my…intellectual acuity."

Paige struggled for air, and she knew it wasn't the work of the firearm pushing against her rib cage. Walter was chipping away at her, piece by piece, until she shattered completely. The liaison searched her mind for ammunition, anything to fight her heartbreak, but every memory she had with the genius felt tainted now. Suddenly it all seemed like acting, two years of him interacting politely with her the way he did with clients he disdained, only for the sake of Scorpion's business operations.

She'd been so weak, so stupid and emotional to fall in love with him. But it was too late. Even if he was turning his back on her, it wasn't in her to turn her back on the man she loved—the man who'd risked himself for her on too many occasions to count.

"You changed my life, Walter. When you walked into that diner," Paige said quietly, her strength and fire long since drained. "And you helped my son become who he was always meant to be. So no, I'm not leaving you with Collins to fall into the rabbit hole for good. We're a Cyclone and that doesn't change no matter how you feel about me."

Walter's eyes widened and he shifted in his position, clearly caught off guard by her answer. "Collins has proven that he can reach us anywhere, at any time," he said eventually. "You're willing to put Ralph in that kind of danger?"

Paige sighed in resignation, glancing over her shoulder at the man holding her captive. "He's going to kill us regardless. Or me, anyway. He won't risk me coming back to ruin your partnership. If I'm right, then Ralph will be safer with Scorpion than with me." She flicked her eyes back to Walter, suppressing a smile as she noted that hints of emotion had started to break through his mask. "I won't take my son away from the only place he's ever been happy. I'd lose him either way."

Walter breathed her name, softly, sending a dizzying wave of heat through her that she'd never been so grateful to feel. Collins loosened his grip on her arm, surely confounded by the scene before him, and Paige used the opportunity to pull herself free and move to Walter's side. Their odds of successful escape were infinitely small, but at least they would be able to stand together.

"Normals are not all the same," the liaison said, feeling an almost sympathetic pang toward Collins as his face betrayed a rare spark of uncertainty. In the hundreds of simulations he'd run, it was clear that he never factored in Paige's possible defiance. "You can end this. It's not too late."

The room was silent as Mark hesitated momentarily, but Paige's hope of a peaceful resolution vanished when he tightened his grip on the gun and cocked it, lining up his shot. "It is for you."

Suddenly her view of Collins was impeded and her eyes locked on Walter's as he stepped in front of her, blocking the disgraced genius's approach. Paige understood his intention immediately and shook her head. "You don't have to."

"Step away from her, Walter," Collins growled. "I warned you there would be consequences to your refusal."

Walter didn't answer, and the liaison had been so wrapped up in his unwavering stare that she didn't realize he was moving her until her back hit the cold concrete wall. Hands she had imagined on her body a thousand times snaked behind her head and neck, gently tangling in her hair.

They couldn't fight—Walter had clearly come to that conclusion himself, or he would be pummeling Collins senseless right now—so he was going to make his last moments about her.

Paige squeezed her eyes shut as his breath touched her neck, hot and calming. Her hands traveled up and clutched the collar of his shirt, closing the last vestige of space between them. "It was real," he whispered, and it still sent a shiver down her spine, like it might have if he'd said it in any other setting. It was their moment, one that Collins couldn't twist or destroy. If Mark was speaking at all, it was lost as her senses were overwhelmed by the man in front of her. "I love you," he mumbled against her skin, and Paige knew that Walter would want his last words to be an unequivocal truth.

The genius leaned back just enough to press his lips to her forehead before pulling her against his body, crushing her between him and the wall. But it was the safest she'd ever felt.

And then everything became deafeningly loud as a flash grenade detonated outside the door, causing an unmistakable bang. Beneath it was a gravely yell they both knew well, and Paige grinned as Cabe and what was likely a small army of Homeland agents set to work knocking down the door.

"You think you've won, don't you?" Collins said evenly, no trace of fear inhabiting his voice. Walter twisted around and held his hands behind him, indicating that Paige should stay in place—Mark was still unpredictable and could easily kill them both in the twenty seconds it took Homeland to get inside.

"Go peacefully, Collins," the genius replied with equal calmness. "You have a brilliant mind. Stop wasting it on revenge."

"Stop wasting yours on emotion," he rebutted, his lips curving into a sickening smile as he raised his gun again. Walter grabbed instinctively for Paige, but Mark turned the barrel on himself instead, pressing it against his temple. "You can't escape me, Walter. I'll always be in your head."

The shot mingled with the sound of the door bursting open and Walter's shouting as he scrambled to reach his former partner. Blood seeped past his fingertips as he called for medical attention. Cabe appeared by his side, gasping at his red-stained shirt. "Kid…"

"It's not mine," Walter assured him before two paramedics descended on Mark's body, and Cabe pulled the genius away to let them work.

But Collins was gone, and he'd been right about one thing, at least. It was a sight Walter wouldn't soon forget.


	6. Fire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you a ton for reading and for your support!

The dark circles under her eyes had faded. Paige was asleep most of the times he visited her room, and she looked peaceful, though Walter often wondered if she was having the same dreams about Collins that he was. She wouldn't accept a sedative, fearing the same loss of control she'd already experienced too many times. Her wrists were bandaged, as were his, but the doctors assured them there would be no lasting damage to the nerves or tissue. The scars Collins gave them would heal.

Walter wasn't as certain about the scars he caused.

Paige noticed him standing in the doorway and stilled halfway through the process of packing a shirt into her open duffel bag. "Hey."

In lieu of a greeting—he'd practiced what he wanted to say numerous times, but could never settle on an appropriate introduction—Walter nodded and leaned into the doorframe. "I expect you're looking forward to returning home with Ralph?"

She tensed a bit at the mention of her son's name. Toby had warned him that anything he said might trigger a reaction in her, at least for a while. Despite the intimacy they shared as they faced death, Paige still seemed uneasy, and they'd both been too stunned and exhausted to address it in their thirty-six hours at the hospital. The liaison had been hit much harder, physically and emotionally, and she needed more time than he did to recover.

But maintaining the distance she deserved was becoming difficult.

"Yes," she answered, zipping the top of the bag and wrapping her slim fingers around the handle. "Ralph's still at the garage with Sylvester so Cabe said he would take me there."

"I can drive you. I talked it over with Cabe and he left my car for us." Walter watched Paige carefully for her reaction, but she didn't appear to have one. Doubt pooled into his chest. "If you're not, uh, not comfortable, Cabe can still—."

"No, it's…it's fine," she said without conviction, taking a deep breath. "I'm just ready to get out of here." Walter crossed to the bed and reached for her bag, but her hand dropped to his arm and stopped him. "Let the orderlies get it," Paige insisted, but the genius shook his head, her protectiveness sending a familiar spark through him.

"It's fine. I don't feel it." Walter rolled his wrist in a circular motion to demonstrate. It was a lie; he did feel it, intensely at times, but he needed to focus on assuaging her pain before he considered his own. He lifted the bag and swung it to his side, matching her slow stride as they left the hospital together.

* * *

"Okay. Thank you." Cabe hung up his cell phone with a frustrated sigh and noticed Toby's curious stare in his peripheral vision. "Are you ever not listening?"

He shook his head earnestly. "No."

Gallo sat pensively for a moment before waving over the psychologist, who used his feet to propel his rolling chair over to the agent's desk. Cabe shot a quick glance to the two geniuses on the other side of the garage and then leaned over to him. "Collins is missing. His body disappeared from the morgue before his autopsy and no one has a damn clue what's happened to it."

Toby's expression grew uncharacteristically serious, a hint of color draining from his face. "He's dead."

Cabe reached up to massage his back of his neck; he could already feel the tension that gripped him during Walter and Paige's abduction returning, making his muscles as tight as a spring. "I certainly hope so."

"Walter saw that psychopath put a bullet in his brain," Toby said bluntly.

Gallo knew that the shrink's genius mind had already suggested any answer he could give. They had faked deaths before, and Mark Collins was a master of manipulation. It wasn't impossible, but they wouldn't know for sure until he turned up again, breathing or not.

"We saw what he wanted us to see." The agent pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes and blinked away the stars that followed. "Look, I hope that bastard never sees the light of day again, but it's safer for us to assume this isn't over yet."

"They almost didn't make it, Cabe. We almost didn't get to them in time. I don't know if I can handle that feeling again."

Cabe offered him a gruff smile. "Then I guess it's a good thing your friends in the criminal underworld were so eager to sell Collins out. I think they hated him just as we much as we do."

"I'm sure your Homeland bribe money helped a little," Toby chuckled halfheartedly before he slumped back into his chair, staring aimlessly at the wall behind Cabe. "We can't keep this from Walter."

"I know." Gallo glanced toward the door, wondering how he was possibly going to deliver news like this to the genius and liaison who would soon walk through it. "But they should get at least one day to celebrate being alive first."

* * *

Paige's silence filled the car, thick as smoke and louder than any sound Walter had ever heard. He opened and shut his mouth twenty times, searching for the most efficient words to repair the damage, but she didn't seem to notice as she stared out the passenger window. They were halfway to the garage before he realized it, and the genius was aware of how much self-loathing he would feel if he wasted this rare moment of time alone with her.

"I'm sorry." It was barely audible, but Paige's awkward shift in her seat assured him that she heard. Her eyes didn't move from the scenery, so Walter focused his attention on the road ahead of him as he spoke. "You resisted him, but I…I didn't. I played into his hands and let him manipulate me. Paige…"

"It's okay," she sighed, cutting him off.

"If that was true, you would be able to maintain eye contact with me." He glanced over at her, and she reluctantly rolled to her side, meeting his gaze for a brief second before staring down at her chipped nails. "I tried to apologize…hastily…at the hospital, but I know that's not enough. Please tell me what will be enough, because there is no research that explains how to remedy my actions."

She remained quiet, and although he attempted to give her time to gather her thoughts, all he really wanted to do was touch her again, shield her the way he'd done from Collins. But Mark removed himself from the equation, making Walter the only villain left, and he supposed he should be grateful that she had allowed him to protect her at all in those final moments.

"I think you meant it. Wait," Paige insisted, holding up her hand as he protested. "I know you hate lying, but…the key to every convincing lie is its basis in truth. And you were very convincing." She steadied herself with a deep inhale and twisted her fingers together in her lap. "Even if you think that you didn't mean what you said…somewhere deep down, you must believe it a little, or it wouldn't have even occurred to you."

Walter tightened his palms around the steering wheel, ignoring the current of discomfort that shot through his wrists. If he'd known that Paige was going to be so stubborn, he never would have bothered. But the instinct to protect her was so strong, and it turned out he'd only succeeded in adding to her suffering.

"You blame me, don't you? In some way. For Megan's death." The liaison sunk her teeth into her bottom lip, pushing down before she released it. "You believe that you would have saved her if you weren't distracted by me and Ralph."

"No," Walter refuted firmly, fighting off the frustration that threatened to seep into his voice. "I'll blame myself for not saving her every day of my life. That may never change. But not you." He could picture his sister, healthy and smiling, the way she wanted him to remember her, and he wished so desperately that she was there with him now. She would know the right thing to say. She always did. "Megan was g-grateful that you and Ralph were a part of Scorpion. She thought it would be…beneficial for me. That my relationship with both of you would help me cope after she was gone." He chanced another look at Paige, relieved to see that she was watching him intently. "She was right, as usual."

"Of course," the liaison said with the barest smile. It was still a welcome sight.

"I didn't mean it," he said a little more seriously, flipping on his turn signal as he pulled off onto the exit. "I would have said or done anything to get you away from Collins and I refuse to apologize for trying to protect you. But I will apologize for what I said, Paige, because it made me ill. It nauseated me to pretend that you were anything less than…than the person who brought Scorpion together, the person that I…" Walter swallowed the rest of the words, unsure if Paige was ready to hear what he truly needed to say. "I can't imagine what it sounded like."

From the corner of his eye, he saw Paige run her fingers over her face and through her hair, smoothing the dark strands. "He's in my head still," she said quietly as she moved to rub the hollow curves under her eyes. "I came so close to breaking, Walter. I didn't want to believe anything he said, but he just…he kept going, he wouldn't stop, and he knew all of my insecurities. Every weakness."

Walter was silent until she finished, rage rising up in him again toward the man who had taken away his option for revenge. There was nothing he could do now but attempt to clean up the debris Collins left in his wake.

"It was his strongest talent. You never really saw what he was like as a part of Scorpion, but…" Walter cleared his throat as the years of painful memories piled up too quickly for him to process. "We all fell victim to him. We weren't immune because of our IQs. He made us doubt our intelligence, our own thoughts. I think we started to depend on him for validation. I craved his approval even when he was destroying me."

Her eyes flicked up to him, studying his hardened features. "Sometimes I forget that he was your friend once," she said evenly, though he knew that reliving this, talking about _him_ , had to bother her more than she was letting on. "He was sick. And he did terrible things. But that doesn't mean it's wrong to grieve him. I just…want you to know that."

Walter shrugged, incapable of discerning the appropriate physical reaction to their conversation. Maybe one day he would know how to feel. But not today. "I think he was right. He'll always have an influence on me. When I had him committed, it was the most difficult decision I'd ever faced. I've never stopped asking myself if it was the correct choice."

Paige thought carefully about her next statement. "I know…I know you believe that you did it for selfish reasons, but you protected the team from him."

"But I couldn't protect you."

"You did everything you could," she responded gently, as Walter forced his attention ahead to the road. Now he was the one who couldn't look her in the eyes. "I don't blame you for any of this, Walter, so please stop blaming yourself. If I'm…if I'm having trouble, I promise I just need time."

The genius felt another wave of guilt wash over him. She was reassuring him, doing what she did best, and he was supposed to be reassuring her. But the truth stuck in his throat. "I'm sorry, Paige."

"I know." She twisted around in her seat so she could face him, bringing her leg up to rest in front of her. "Did you mean what you said?"

"Paige, I told you—."

"No," the liaison interrupted, suddenly dropping her gaze as she focused her nervous attention on a loose thread sticking out from the seam of her jeans. "The last thing."

Walter sucked in a sharp breath. It had been so easy to tell her when he thought there would only be one opportunity, and now…

But he couldn't lie to her. He wasn't sure their relationship would survive any more dishonesty. "After everything I said, I couldn't accept the idea that you might…" He paused, unable to acknowledge even to himself how close he'd come to losing her. "Without knowing the truth."

"Is that a yes?"

He was drowning, but Paige didn't seem to mind. Her voice was full of affection that he didn't deserve. "Yes. I know you don't have any reason to believe what I'm saying, but—."

"I believe you," she noted firmly. Walter suppressed a smile, not just at her confidence in him but at the strength returning to her voice, after Collins had succeeded in making her sound so fragile and exhausted. "No matter what you said, in the end, what you did meant more. I'll, uh…I'll admit that it's still hard to wrap my head around. But it's easier now that he's not messing with my mind."

"But you're still uncomfortable around me. I can tell."

"It's complicated. I'm sure you've felt it too, with Collins." She looped the thread around her finger and tugged on it gently. "Little things keep triggering memories of what you said. Both of you. I can't push them out. But I've always trusted you, Walter, with my life, with everything. So I'm choosing to trust you now."

Walter debated for a silent moment before asking, "And you? W-were you being honest? Or was it just an idea that Collins planted?" When she didn't answer immediately, he pressed his lips together and shook his head. "I'm sorry. I don't have any right to ask that."

She drifted her fingers across her eyes, clearing away the salty moisture, and he berated himself for always being the one who seemed to make her cry. "Collins could only manipulate me because I love you," Paige admitted finally. "He pressed on what I had already started to believe myself. That I was foolish, waiting around when you were never going to return my feelings. And then you…well, you said all the same things, and I didn't want to believe that you were telling the truth. But I did, in the moment. I only accepted it when you told me you loved me because I knew you wouldn't lie to me about that. Especially not if it was the last thing you would ever say."

Part of Walter was overcome with the sudden urge to pull over to the side of the road and kiss her until her doubts had vanished, but something kept his foot firmly on the gas pedal as he passed through a yellow light.

"Why didn't you leave, Paige?" the genius murmured. She blinked at him in surprise. "You and Ralph could have been safe."

"We don't want to be anywhere but here," she replied as if it was the most obvious answer in the world. "I was never going to leave you, Walter. Taking Ralph away from the only real home he's ever had would be…unthinkable. It's not worth surviving if you can't live with yourself afterward."

Walter didn't speak for several minutes as he contemplated her response. He completed a familiar right turn into the alley behind the garage and shifted the vehicle into park, but neither of them made a move to get out.

"I don't want you to leave," Walter said without warning, causing Paige's head to snap up.

"The car?"

"Me." He stared at the dashboard and set his jaw, trying to focus enough to sort through and prioritize hundreds of sentiments he wished he was emotionally developed enough to share. "When Collins had you taken out of the room, I wasn't sure…I didn't know if I would see you again. And I'm going to relive that nightmare over and over unless you're close and I know you're safe. I did when we were at the hospital. That's why I was in your room every chance the doctors gave me."

"Walter…"

"Please, Paige," the genius continued, his tone leaving no question as to his seriousness. "I'm only asking for tonight. Maybe you want to go to your apartment, and I can take you there. Or…or if you need more time away from me, then I understand, just say it. But if it's acceptable to you, I, uh, I want to be with you and Ralph." Walter finally gathered the courage to observe her reaction, and was startled by the unusual intensity in her expression. At least he hadn't scared her off. "If I had just been honest with you, if I told you the second I comprehended my feelings, you never would have had to wonder. I could have saved you from all of this." He forced down the lump in his throat. "I'm sorry, Paige. I just want to make this right. Let me…let me take care of you."

Tears that had been collecting in the rims of Paige's eyes spilled freely as she nodded, and not touching her suddenly felt like an impossible task. His hand traveled to cradle the back of her head, pulling her close to him as he leaned his forehead against hers, his harsh, shallow breathing amplified in the space between them, and squeezed his eyes shut.

Walter had no intention of letting go—he wasn't sure how he would ever be able to let her out of his sight again—but he hesitated to push forward, not wanting to claim any more when he'd already taken so much from her. Paige understood the unspoken exchange and tilted her head, capturing his lips. She made a noise in the back of her throat as Walter responded eagerly, and his mind was all but useless as she moved against him—beautiful, strong, and _alive_.

Paige's hands began to grasp clumsily at his shirt, and the genius abruptly broke their embrace, worried that she might exacerbate her injuries. She stared at him questioningly, understanding dawning in her eyes as he silently slid his thumb down her arm and trailed it along the edge of her bandage. "I'm okay, Walter," she said as she cracked a soft smile and wrapped her other palm around the back of his hand. "You're not going to break me."

"I'm not sure anything can break you," he joked, matching her weak grin. Paige leaned in to brush her lips over his again, just enough to remind him that she was there, that they had made it through and that sooner or later, things between them would be normal again. Better than normal.

"Come on," the liaison insisted, tugging on Walter's hands and nodding toward the garage. "If we're lucky, we might still get some of that cake."


End file.
